


Bad timing

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, M/M, Pining, Some Romance, Some Silliness, a little Mystrade, some jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: Having run away from home after finding out his family was planning on sending him as a tribute to the Fire Lord, Sherlock somehow finds himself joining the rebellion.One would agree that’s not the appropriate setting for romance.And yet-





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So… this. I wanted to write an Avatar!AU since forever, but I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Then I saw this month’s challenge on the [hiatustory](https://hiatustory.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and well… I figured I’d give it a shot.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Here’s the thing, though. I think this works better as part of a bigger thing (not sure if a series or just a long fic), but since the challenge closes on the 21st and I’ll be out of the city for the next week, I thought I’d post this. It stands pretty well on its own as a one-shot, I think, but I’d like to add more to it at some point. I probably will, but maybe not, depending on whether or not another plot bunny gets a hang of me (I do have a ridiculous number of other WIPs too, so… there’s that)
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> Happy reading!

It’s been raining for so long that the whole yard is filled with puddles of dirty water. Not a single soul would dare to even go outside during this pouring rain and yet there Sherlock stands, in the middle of the half flooded yard, shivering like crazy, glaring at his completely dry brother.

Oh, how he hates the smug bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Mycroft smirks, earning himself a dark scowl from his younger brother that of course doesn’t make him even bat an eyelash, used as he is to it.

“Again, brother dear,” Mycroft encourages after a brief pause and Sherlock glares again, but gets in position, closing his eyes to concentrate better. He hears his brother huffing, having never actually dealt with getting distracted by what’s happening around him while trying to bend and he quickly forces himself to focus once more.

He can feel the energy flowing through him as he starts moving, but he finds it hard to canalize it. Which in turn just makes him feel frustrated, which makes it even harder to focus, turning it all into a vicious cycle.

He opens his eyes again, realizing he’s not going to make any progress today. He’s tired and annoyed and the falling rain isn’t helping one bit. His brother is frowning, but doesn’t comment as Sherlock stomps back into the house, not caring one bit about the puddles and therefore getting his clothes completely muddy.

It’s been a long day and Sherlock couldn’t care less about the state of his clothes.

He’s finding harder and harder to care about anything, truth to be told.

 

* * *

 

The day Sherlock turned 18, just a couple of months ago, his parents told him they were sending him as a tribute to the the Fire Nation. It wasn’t something the Fire Lord had actually demanded from them, but they had figured out it might make the crazy man happy, seeing the amount of interest he had shown on Sherlock the last time he had came on an official visit, and of course his parents wanted to keep the tirant happy.

And if they could get rid of their troublesome son while at it, well, that was just added bonus.

So Sherlock had decided to run away, before any arrangements to send him away could be made. Of course Mycroft found him on the second day, but what really surprised him was his brother’s offer to come along. Sherlock hadn’t exactly thought it wise; two missing heirs would concern their parents enough to send a big search party after them but his brother did make a good point: without him, Sherlock was practically defenseless.

He had wanted to learn waterbending practically since he was a toddler, but his parents had insisted it wasn’t proper for a Prince as himself. They hadn’t wanted Mycroft to learn either, actually, but his older brother had proved himself to be much of a prodigy not to be properly trained and so they had eventually relented. His brother had to be the best waterbender alive and Sherlock can’t help resenting him a little for that.

In his defense, Mycroft did try to teach him, whenever they had the chance and were on their own, but Sherlock just lacked the natural talent for it. He was very smart and very capable of a great deal of things, but when it came to waterbending…

Well, he just lacked the focus to do it.

They’ve been training more now that they’re on the run and Sherlock can occasionally manage to control a bit of water now and then, but at his current pace it’s likely it’ll take him years to manage the most basic of moves. He supposes there’s really nothing else to do but endure, though.

He looks around the mostly barren room and sighs. They had been staying mostly in small inns, trying not to drag any attention to themselves, but a few days ago they had run into a small troop of fire nation soldiers. Since they were carrying no type of identification (and in retrospective, they really should have tried to find a fake one sooner), they had nearly been arrested. Mycroft had managed to deal with most of the soldiers on his own while Sherlock had done his best in hand to hand combat, but there were 10 to 2 and so the odds hadn’t been in their favour.

In the last minute though, a couple of earthbenders had appeared out of nowhere and helped them escape. Although the wisest thing to do then would have been to part ways shortly after, they had ended up being dragged back to the earthbenders home. Except it wasn’t, not really, as they had learned that same night when they had met the rest of the small resistance group.

So now they have gotten themselves involved with the resistance and they’re pretty much stuck here since the rebels can’t quite risk letting them go.

It’s not that bad, except Sherlock has never liked feeling _ trapped  _ and he’s never been very good at social situations, so he spends most of the time locked inside the small room they’ve been assigned. Mycroft, ever the diplomat even if he dislikes  _ people  _ in general, has been making a good job of  _ endearing  _ himself to the rebel leaders; a wise political move, should the resistance actually triumph over the Fire Lord on the apparently upcoming battle.

Sherlock sighs, leaning back on the small bed and contemplating the ceiling. He’s bored, itching to go out and do something (he’s not quite sure what). He thinks he could probably attempt to do some waterbending on his own: it’s not completely unlikely the reason he can’t quite concentrate is because his brother makes him feel incompetent (even if that’s not his intention).

It sounds like a good way to kill some time, to be honest and it could be useful too. Besides, as long as he doesn’t leave the house, no one pays him any mind.

Mind made up, he stands up and puts on his shoes before heading towards the yard.

 

* * *

 

Most of the rebel base is hidden underground, as it’d benefit every good rebellion, but the main entrance in beneath a lavish house that belongs to one Dr. John Watson, of the fire nation, who Sherlock has yet to meet. The doctor has some minor position in the local council (or so it’s said. Based on the size of the house, Sherlock doubts the  _ minor  _ bit). The man was a member of the resistance from the very beginning, which makes his trustworthy apparently, although Sherlock isn’t convinced that’s a sound logic.

When he told the rebel leaders as much, he got a very dirty look for his troubles.

He sighs, looking around the still almost flooded yard. It’s been raining for days now, a common occurrence around here or so he’s been told. Which is a positive thing, he supposes, except he hates ending up feeling like a drowned kitten.

Nothing for it, he tells himself as he steps into the yard, searching for an appropriate puddle. Mycroft always says it’s important to have a considerable source of still water handy, particularly this early in his training, so he won’t end up hurting himself somehow. As much as Sherlock resents his brother’s advice, he does know it’s better to follow it.

He starts as he usually does, attempting to clear his head from every thought. He knows his movements are precise, there’s no actual reason for them not to work, unless he wasn’t actually capable of bending, but he  _ does _ have the gift, even if he can’t control it.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly calls next to him, startling him. He glares at the puddle, the water still and he huffs, turning to glare at whom interrupted him instead. Molly offers him an embarrassed smile, a soft blush covering her cheeks.

“Avatar,” he greets politely, nodding his head and the woman huffs, rolling her eyes dramatically, but she’s still blushing. Sherlock arches an eyebrow, prompting her to say something, but the girl simply continues staring at him sheepishly.

The earthbenders who had rescued him and his brother had turned out to be no regular rebels: one of them was in fact the Avatar, who has been missing since the beginning of the war. Molly admits her teachers sent her to hide, thinking it for the best since she can’t actually claim to have mastered the four elements. In fact, while she’s a fantastic airbender and she’s good enough to be mistaken for your regular earthbender, her waterbending is practically non existent. A fact that Mycroft has used to endear himself to the rebel leaders, of course, but that’s not here or there.

“Was there anything you needed?” he asks finally, since the woman seems disinclined to say anything and she blushes a darker shade of red, making Sherlock almost roll his eyes at her.

He has heard the gossip inside the base, of course. Most of the younger rebels seem to think the young Avatar is  _ sweet on him,  _ which Sherlock thinks it’s a ridiculous way to call her puppy crush on him. The girl is barely 16, she’s just a mess of hormones that hasn’t quite figured out how to interact with others properly, not to mention attempt to  _ flirt _ .

He also thinks it’s quite unfair expecting the poor thing to lead a rebellion, but well… she actually seems good at that.

“Molly?” he prompts once more, one eyebrow raised and she lets out a nervous giggle, running her fingers over her bald head. Sherlock is fairly certain she’s attempting to recreate the nervous flirting young girls do, playing with their hair while talking to their crushes, but the effect is a bit lost without any hair.

“I was thinking,” she starts, nervous, biting her lip. “Do you- would you- maybe we could train together?” she somehow manages to blush harder and Sherlock holds back a sigh.

He considers the girl’s offer seriously. She’s almost as bad as himself when it comes to waterbending, but he somehow doubts the exercise will prove useful for either of them. 

But she looks so eager and while he might not reciprocate her interest, he doesn’t wish to be cruel. He does know a thing or two about puppy crushes, actually and it’s never nice to have them being rude at you.

Something Sherlock is actually very familiar with.

“Sure,” he concedes finally and Molly beams at him, making him smile back. The girl is sweet and funny and he thinks he could grow to be fond of her, but-

He shakes his head, forcing himself to pay attention to the matter at hand. He gets in position, Molly coming to stand in front of him and both close their eyes, trying to focus on their bending.

Training with someone other than his brother is… weird, to be honest, but not unpleasant. In fact, it’s proving to be quite conductive to make some actual progress.

Sherlock smiles smugly to himself.

He always knew his annoying brother was the problem.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so sorry- I don’t- I don’t know what-” 

Sherlock waves a hand vaguely, silencing Molly’s apology. It was an accident, as they’re bound to happen when one is learning and he’s not exactly in pain, although his arm is bent in an odd angle. He thinks the strange beverage the nurse gave him the moment they stepped into the infirmary has something to do with his lack of pain and while he feels pretty drowsy, he’s certainly not complaining.

Molly sits next to him, looking around the room anxiously as the nurse leaves to fetch a doctor. They have a considerable number of doctors and nurses in their small base, who don’t actually have much to do at the moment, seeing they’re not actually doing any real fighting just yet and the only injuries come from domestic or training accidents.

Sherlock assures his companion, for what feels like the millionth time, that he’s perfectly fine, but Molly looks far from convinced. Before he can speak any more reassurances though, the doctor finally shows up and Sherlock has trouble thinking, let alone attempting to string coherent sentences.

The man is young, although certainly much older than Sherlock. His skin is tanned, a sign of someone who spends far too much time in the sun, contrasting nicely with his blond hair. His eyes, an odd shade of blue are fixed intently on Sherlock, looking at his bended arm concernedly.

The man greets Molly politely and asks what happened. Sherlock is vaguely aware of his companion saying something, but his focus remains on the handsome doctor, who is now standing next to the bed. He is even more handsome this close and Sherlock is having a hard time trying not to blush like a silly teeneager.

God, he thought he was past the puppy crushes, but apparently, he’s not.

As the doctor examines his arm gently, he can’t help blushing a little. Molly is observing the procedure too closely to notice it and the doctor’s attention is completely on his arm and for that, Sherlock is eternally thankful. It’s embarrasing enough to know he’s behaving like a teeneager without having any witness to his silliness.

He gets distracted from his useless thoughts by the doctor suddenly pulling at his arm rather painfully. He cries out in pain, attempting to escape the man’s grasp, but the grip is firm and the pain isn’t helping one bit.

“Sorry about that,” the doctor apologises finally, gesturing for the nurse to get him something. “I needed to put the bone back in place and warning you would have only made you anxious. Now we’ll put in a cast and you’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks.”

Sherlock blinks. Normally he’d have something to say, but now that he’s no longer in unbearable pain, his brain seems to have fixated once more on how attractive he finds the doctor. Which is embarrassing and more than a little silly.

“Are you okay?” the doctor asks after a while and that’s when Sherlock realizes he has failed to utter a single word while in the man’s presence, which must be some sort of record for him. “You’re new, aren’t you?” he asks, peering at him curiously and it takes every bit of Sherlock’s self control not to blush like crazy.

“This is Will,” Molly introduces him cheerfully, a bright smile on her lips. “Me and Greg rescued him and his brother last week. We told you about it, remember?” she sounds slightly chiding and the man frowns, as if trying to recall that particular incident.

“Oh, yes. The waterbenders,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “William and Michael, was it?”

Sherlock nods. For all of Mummy’s love for weird names, she always called him by his first name when he was a child, so they had figured it was a good “fake” name: much less recognizable than Sherlock. As for Mycroft, Mummy usually called him Mic and Mycroft hated it, which was why Sherlock called him that when he was pissed and well… it seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Pleased to meet you,” the doctor says, smile bright as the sun and Sherlock’s breath catches. “I’m John Watson.”

Oh, so this is the infamous John Watson. Well, now Sherlock understands why everyone is so inclined to believe everything he says: Sherlock has just met him and he already thinks he’d be willing to put his life in his hands.

Oh, he’s screwed, isn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really like what I’ve written so far and I had planned to write a bit more, but then I realized I had no clue whatsoever of where exactly was this supposed to end and well… as I said, this works as a one-shot (I think) but it has the potential to grow into something else :P  
> We’ll see, I suppose.  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, pretty please?
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a ridiculously short chapter but well… As I said, I’ll be out of the office for the next week and I doubt I’ll get any time to write, but inspiration is strong and I have no self control whatsoever so… well.  
> Enjoy!

Sherlock isn’t a stranger to unrequited love.

He’s far from it, actually and so he has learned to deal with it. It’s not always easy and sometimes it’s downright painful, but he has managed. He has learned that sometimes it’s better to ignore it and that, with time, all feelings fade.

He’s having trouble convincing himself of that right now, though. He’s developed, quite unfortunately, a fascination with Dr. Watson that he can not logically explain, but that makes him follow after the older man like a lost puppy.

It’s more than a tad pathetic and Sherlock is embarrassed of his behavior, but he can’t help himself. He’s frustrated with himself too and that reflects on his general mood, which in turn makes his training sessions fruitless, therefore adding to his frustration. Normally this would frustrate Mycroft too and that would just anger Sherlock more, but luckily it seems his brother has other things to think about, judging by his constant absent air.

Sherlock would be curious, if he wasn’t so busy trying to figure out what to do about his silly crush.

Johnlways seems a bit surprised when Sherlock “accidentally” runs into him, but never displeased. In fact, he often invites Sherlock along for whatever he’s up to and Sherlock is just too happy to follow, basking in the attention.

The problem is that John isn’t only handsome; he’s also smart and thoughtful and so very interesting. Sherlock is still trying to put his story together, based on the bits and pieces the man has shared with him and also his own deductions. He comes from a long line of military men and while disapproving of the war, John had fought as valiantly as it had been expected from him.

An injury on his shoulder cut his military career short, leaving John free to pursue a medical career, exactly as he had always wanted despite his parents’ wishes. Sherlock is deadly curious about the scar and what it might reveal, but John is actually very self concious about it, careful to keep it covered no matter what.

Also, unlike all of Sherlock’s previous crushes, the doctor actually finds his deductions  _ fascinating _ . The first time the man had uttered the word, Sherlock had stared at him for a couple of minutes, unbelieving, until the doctor had asked him what was wrong. Confessing that people usually found his deductions disturbing had earned him a laugh and a hearty path on the back, which had made Sherlock’s heart flutter.

He’s careful around the doctor, though. As much as his infatuation affects his judgement, Sherlock isn’t an idiot and he knows giving away his real identity would bring nothing but trouble. Still, he wishes he could share his past with John; in fact, he realizes he wants to share everything with him: his past, his present and, probably more important, his future.

Which is a bunch of nonsense, of course. Particularly if you consider the fact that John is in some sort of relationship with one of the nurses, or so has Sherlock deduced by the way they interact with each other. They’re pretty discreet about it, of course, but well…

Sherlock’s ability to deduce what’s hidden is equally a blessing and a curse.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He knows he’s being foolish and that his silly crush will go nowhere, but  _ logic  _ can’t convince him to change his actions. Besides, it’s not like it matters; the only one hurt by his actions is himself and that’s a price he can pay, right?

Right.

 

* * *

 

“So… what’s on your mind?” Molly questions gently, keeping her eyes trained on the water puddle. They’ve made some surprising progress in these last few days and normally Sherlock would be feeling immensely proud of himself, but he happened to catch a glimpse of John and Miss Morstan earlier and while he knows his jealousy is irrational, it has certainly make him feel at odds.

“Nothing,” he replies easily, trying to focus once more on what he’s doing. As long as he can keep his mind blank, he does well enough but the minute his thoughts start wandering…

“You know, you’re nowhere near as discreet as you think,” the girl comments, staring at her hands awkwardly, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Or maybe I just watch you too closely.” She bites her lip, uncomfortable. She obviously didn’t mean to say so much. “Either way- it’s perfectly natural. I mean… half of the base is in love with Dr. Watson, there’s nothing-”

She interrupts herself, a bit taken aback by Sherlock’s dark glare. He looks away a second later, reminding himself it’s not her fault he’s feeling this way, not to mention-

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs finally, looking down at the floor. “I just- it’s not a subject I’d care to discuss. And I can’t imagine you’d be exactly comfortable with it either,” he adds, perhaps a tad cruelly, but Molly barely reacts, simply shrugging.

“Greg says I’m still a hormonal mess, falling in love with every handsome guy I happen to run into.” She shrugs once more, her cheeks a rosy colour. “I used to have a crush on him, you know? And when we arrived here… well, let’s just say I happen to know exactly what you’re going through.” She smiles self deprecatingly, before turning her back to him and Sherlock has never felt more like an asshole in his life.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats after a while and she nods, still not looking at him. He thinks he should probably say something else, but he has no clue what and so he chooses to keep quiet, not wanting to make it worse.

“It’s fine,” Molly announces finally, facing him once more, a cheerful smile on her face. “But if I may say something… I actually think you might have a shot there.” She shrugs again, smile a bit tight. “John does seem…  _ fond  _ of you.”

Sherlock’s heart skips a beat and he promptly chides himself for his foolishness. It’s useless to entertain silly hope; it’ll do nothing but hurt him worse in the long run.

“Let’s get back to training, huh?” he proposes, getting back in position and Molly hesitates, apparently wanting to say something more before nodding once.

They don’t speak much afterwards.

It’s probably for the best.

 

* * *

 

“That’s quite impressive, actually.”

Sherlock would swear to his dying day that he did not squeak in alarm, but in truth, there’s no other word to describe the sound that leaves his lips. He turns to John, attempting to glare but not quite succeeding and the doctor offers him a charming smile that of course makes Sherlock melt.

Really, the man will be the death of him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, figuring he’s not going to get any more practice today. He finds it hard enough to concentrate under regular circumstances, with John here it’s almost guaranteed he won’t be able to focus in anything other than the man’s presence.

John shrugs non committedly, sitting on the steps leading to the house's entrance. “It is my house, you know?”

Sherlock blushes furiously, looking away. “I didn’t mean to imply-”

John waves a hand vaguely, dismissing his concern. “Never mind that,” he says, smile bright as usual and Sherlock’s heart flutters. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a bender.”

Sherlock shrugs, not meeting the other man’s eyes. “I’m getting better at the basics,” he murmurs softly. “But I’m nowhere near as good as my brother. And to be honest… sometimes I just find it nearly impossible to concentrate.”

John nods, patting the space next to him in a clear invitation for Sherlock to take a seat. The younger man doesn’t need to be asked twice, having already hurried to his side. “I always admired the grace that waterbenders move with,” John says, his tone a bit… dreamy. “The movements are just so elegant, so contained. It’s really beautiful.”

Sherlock isn’t sure if he should be flattered or not, since he very much doubts he has mastered the moves enough to look as graceful as he could. “I suppose you’re right. Firebending has always struck me as much more… forceful.”

“That’s one way to call it.” John smirks, turning to him and Sherlock can’t help the slight blush that covers his cheeks at having the other’s man undivided attention. “I’ve always thought firebending is more… emotional, if you will, while waterbending is more about keeping control. I don’t really know much about airbenders, but earthbenders are also about control although the moves look a bit more… stiff, I’d say, while waterbending is all graceful but carefully calculated movements.”

Sherlock’s attention has slipped away, though, now focused on his companion’s closeness. John looks troubled, although the reason can’t be the subject they’re discussing (or at least Sherlock doesn’t think so) and so that makes him curious.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks gently, placing a hand over the other’s knee. It’s not a terribly intimate gesture, but for Sherlock, who isn’t really used to touching people, it certainly feels that way.

John stares at him for a while, as if deciding what he should say. His first instinct is to deny everything, Sherlock can tell, but he also knows by now that it’s nearly impossible to deceive him. “Nothing gets past you, huh?” he says, a small self depreciating smile on his lips. “It’s nothing, really, or at least I don’t think so, but the Fire Lord has been oddly quiet lately and I can’t help thinking…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely and Sherlock frowns.

“What do you think it’s going to happen?”

John sighs, defeated. “I don’t have a clue. And that’s the troubling part, isn’t it?”

Yes, Sherlock supposes it is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter!  
> I’m sorry for the late update, but as I said I was out of the office for a while and well… I don’t get much free time when I’m at home :P Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

The dining room is filled with chattering, everyone a little too enthusiastic to really keep their tone down. Sherlock makes his way through the throng of people that seem to find nothing wrong with standing in the middle of the aisles, chatting happily and getting in his way.

He sighs, dropping himself at a somewhat deserted table, focus on his bland meal. He’s not terribly hungry and even if he was, he normally wouldn’t choose the common dining room to eat, but John asked him to meet him here and well…

Here he is.

There’s very little John could ask from him that Sherlock wouldn’t do. In fact, short from murder, he can’t think of a single thing. Which should be troubling, probably, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Well, this is a surprise, brother dear,” Mycroft says, sliding on the seat in front of him and Sherlock glares, stabbing his food with a little too much strength. His brother smirks widely and Sherlock is hard pressed not to throw something at him.

“What do you want?” he questions darkly, figuring ignoring his brother won’t make him leave any sooner and he really wants him gone before John shows up. He certainly doesn’t need the older one to witness the many ways in which he constantly embarrases himself in front of the handsome doctor.

“We haven’t practiced in a while,” his brother explains calmly, smirk firmly in place. “It seems you’ve been rather… busy with a certain doctor, I’ve been told.”

“Piss off,” Sherlock murmurs, not meeting his eyes and the other man huffs dramatically.

“Just be careful,” Mycroft advises and Sherlock has to look up after hearing the honest concern in his tone. He frowns and opens his mouth to say he’s perfectly capable of looking after himself and that just because he’s head over heels in love with the man, he’s not about to do something that could put them in danger, when they’re joined by another rebel.

“Well, hello there,” Greg greets, smiling eagerly. “I didn’t expect to run into you here, Mike.”

Mycroft’s smile is tight, although Sherlock can’t tell if it’s because of the nickname or due the man’s eagerness. The other man doesn’t seem to notice though, since his friendly smile doesn’t waver.

As his older companions start talking between them, Sherlock wonders if he could sneak away without them noticing. Probably, but he did promise to meet John here and there’s just too many people around, so he’d rather stick to people he actually knows, even if he’s not particular interested in spending time with them.

He looks up just in time to watch Greg leaning into his brother’s personal space, one hand resting over Mycroft’s forearm, smile a bit too wide, eyes soft and affectionate.

Oh dear god. He can’t be seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.

Mycroft seems to have picked onto the blatant flirting too and seems uncomfortable enough, attempting to pull away discreetly and when he doesn’t succeed, he hurries to excuse himself and escape, politely refusing the other man’s company when Greg offers to come along to wherever he’s going.

Greg sighs dejectedly once Mycroft is out of earshot, rubbing a hand over his face and Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically. “He’s not like that,” he informs him primly, figuring out it might be the best thing to do. His brother is never going to return his interest, so he might as well warn off the poor man so he doesn’t waste his time.

“Oh,” the other man murmurs, looking quite crestfallen, staring at his hands. “I didn’t… umm… I thought…”

“It’s not-” Sherlock begins, interrupting himself by biting his tongue, wondering if he’s actually going to discuss his brother’s love life (or lack of it) with a practical stranger just to make him feel better. It doesn’t sound like something he’d willingly do, truth to be told. “What I mean is, my brother has never been interested in anyone at all. So… just no.”

The other man is observing him closely, mulling his words over. Sherlock thinks he should have just let him think his brother simply wasn’t interested in men, since now the damn fool seems to think he might have a shot after all. In all truth, Sherlock is fairly certain his brother just lacks anything resembling a sex drive (not that he had ever thought much about that because… well, this is his brother after all), but he had been willing to marry whoever their parents choose for him and have children with them (probably. Presumably. Sherlock never actually asked)

Greg is smiling absentmindedly now, probably having come up with some sort of plan and Sherlock sighs dramatically. It’s not like it’s a any of his business and he doesn’t want to get involved in his brother’s love life, so he figures he’ll let it go.

“Do you think-”

“No!” Sherlock exclaims, half tempted to storm out of the room, figuring he can always look for John later. “I will not get involved in this! I do not want to know what you and Mycro- my brother get up to!”

“What’s going on here?” John asks, eyebrows arched amusedly and Sherlock blushes at his outburst. Great, exactly what he needed. He opens his mouth to explain when he notices John isn’t on his own and he can feel his heart sinking to his feet, jealousy and sadness nearly overwhelming him, so he simply looks down, trying to get his emotions back under control.

He catches Greg’s light frown from the corner of his eye and he pursues his lips, annoyed at yet someone else noticing his pathetic crush.

“Is there something wrong?” John questions, picking on his change of mood and Sherlock forces himself to shake his head, offering him a tight smile that makes the doctor frown but he seems to be willing to let it go for now. “Anyway, I was planning for us to have a quiet meal, but things have changed a bit. And since Greg is already here… I want you to meet someone,” he says, turning to his female companions. One of them is nurse Mary, with whom Sherlock is familiar enough and who he dislikes illogically, since her only fault is to be John’s current partner. The other one, an attractive brunette must be new to the base, since Sherlock doesn’t recall seeing her before.

“Well, hello there,” the woman greets him, a filtry smile on her lips and Sherlock rises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. He’s never been much interested on womanly charms, but he’d admit this one is a particularly attractive one. She chuckles, offering her hand to Greg. “I’m Janine Hawkins.”

Sherlock blinks. He knows that name, although- “you’re Lord Magnussen’s adviser.” Magnussen is one of the Fire Lord’s closer  _ allies;  _ he’s very well politically positioned and most people wouldn’t dare to even _ think _ about making a move against him.

She smirks. “Well, that’s the official title of course. But I’m more like an overpaid secretary.” Her eyes have darken, anger swimming behind the pupils and Sherlock realizes this woman is dangerous. “I probably shouldn’t complain about that, though.”

“Janine has been very helpful for the rebellion, always keeping us updated on the Fire Lord’s moves. She’s been… sent away for a while, though. Her boss doesn’t seem to suspect anything, but-”

“If he suspected something amiss she wouldn’t be here,” Mary interrupts, sounding annoyed.

“Unless he was hoping she’d lead them to us,” Sherlock protests and judging by John’s look he’s thinking something along the same lines. 

“Indeed,” John agrees, turning his attention to Greg. “It’s fortunate I’ve run into you here; I need someone to keep an eye on Janine at all times. Considering her… relationship with Mary it’s not that suspicious that she dropped by for a quick visit, but we can’t afford for her to stay long. If Magnussen indeeds suspects something, it’s on our best interests she keeps on traveling, as if she was heading to some secret destination.”

“You want to use her as bait!” Mary snaps angrily, but Janine places a hand on her arm placatingly. The blond huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“It’s fine, really,” Janine insists. “And it’s probably the best way to keep this facade for a little longer. Not that I think this place is safe anymore,” she adds, turning to John. “You really need to start moving.”

John nods thoughtfully. “I agree. If you can somewhat distract their attention though… it’d give us time.” Mary has clenched her jaw and Janine is rubbing her arm, a light smile on her lips, gaze affectionate and Sherlock wonders if his observation about John and Mary have been wrong.

“I have the perfect people for the job,” Greg says cheerfully, ignoring how tense everyone is. “Don’t worry Mary, I’ll make sure nothing happens to your girl.”

Mary makes a face. “I’m coming with them.”

“Mary-” both John and Janine start at the same time but she just sends a dark look in their direction. Janine rolls her eyes, but she does look somewhat relieved and John huffs. “You should probably start packing, then,” he deadpans darkly and Mary nods, grabbing Janine’s hand and pulling her along. John sighs, turning to Greg. “Greg?”

“Yeah, I’m onto it,” the man says, standing up and waving goodbye as he makes his way through the throng of people. A few people from other tables have turned to look at them, but promptly look away when John sends a dark look in their direction.

“Sorry about that, I really- I just wanted us to share a quiet meal” he murmurs, dropping himself on the chair previously occupied by Greg. “I just- I know something is afoot, but I don’t know what and I… If they have discovered Janine, I have no doubt they have figured out I’m a spy too.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Sherlock argues quietly, staring at his half eaten food. “So what are we going to do?”

John rubs his chin thoughtfully and Sherlock tells himself now is not the time to get distracted by the man’s good looks. “We need to leave this place, obviously. I’m not very keen, of course, since well… this place is quite convenient and we have already adapted the underground to fit our needs, so establishing ourselves somewhere else… I’m not quite sure we can all come together and-”

“Don’t you… umm… doesn’t it matter to you, leaving your home behind?” he doesn’t know why he asks it, but it seems terribly important to know the answer. John observes him for a beat and Sherlock is hard pressed not to squirm under the intense stare.

“I’ve always believe home isn’t a place,” John replies simply, shrugging. “If we do have to separate into small groups… I’d like you to come with me.” Sherlock looks up, heart fluttering and John offers him a small smile. “I’m not so keen on having your brother coming along, but I’m fairly certain he won’t let you go on your own. Overprotective much, huh?”

Sherlock huffs, ignoring how warm his cheeks are. “You have no idea.” He looks down, hiding his blush as John smiles sweetly at him. “Considering… everything, is likely Greg will like to come with us too.”

“You don’t say…” John murmurs absent mindedly, expression thoughtful. “I’m not quite convinced Molly is anywhere near ready to fight the Fire Lord, but maybe… Maybe we can’t afford to lose any more time. Maybe we need to start moving towards the capital.”

That’s all kind of crazy, but maybe John is right. He knows there are other rebel cells spread all around the continent, but they’re nowhere near strong enough to resist a direct attack by the Fire Nation and if they start getting picked up one by one-

It’s unwise to plan an attack right now, but waiting much more might make it just downright suicidal.

Talk about being caught up between a rock and a hard place.

 

* * *

 

“May I ask you something?” John looks up from his food, apparently surprised by Sherlock’s sudden interruption. They had been sitting in comfortable silence, John eating while Sherlock thought about their earlier conversation and continued absentmindedly picking on his own food. Now though… well, there’s a little something bothering him.

“Sure,” John replies easily with a non committed shrug and Sherlock bites his lip, considering his question. It’s none of his business, of course, but-

“Are Mary and Janine… together?”

John blinks, apparently not having been expecting such question. “Yes, why?”

Sherlock shrugs. “I just- I thought you and Mary…” he trails off as an amused smile blooms on John’s face, making him blush profusely. He’s not used to getting things wrong and he’s not sure how exactly he arrived to the wrong conclusion but he’ll admit he probably wasn’t looking close enough since his emotions kept getting the better of him.

Sentiment can be quite blinding, unfortunately.

“Me and Mary did use to date,” John says after a bit and Sherlock can’t help his jealousy although he knows it’s completely ridiculous. “But they always… they always seemed to fit better.”

Sherlock nods thoughtfully. “Is that… common in the Fire Nation? Same sex couples, I mean.” John frowns, seemingly confused and Sherlock blushes bright red once more. “In the Water Nation… well, it’s not  _ illegal,  _ per se but they’re kept rather secret.”

“Ah,” John murmurs, a small smile on his lips. “It’s not- terribly common, but it’s common enough and nobody has made a fuss in decades. Or at least I don’t think so,” he adds thoughtfully, tapping his chin. 

Sherlock smiles briefly before turning his attention back to his food, toying with it. He supposes it’s reassuring somehow, although Sherlock has yet to figure out if John is interested in men in general and in Sherlock in particular. He’s well aware he’s nothing like Mary, but maybe… well, John did say it hadn’t worked out between them so maybe-

He spares a second to think about his parents and how they’d be horrified at the prospect of him engaging in a relationship with another man. Of course they were going to send him off to the Fire Lord, but he supposes they didn’t think that really counted. Although, who knows what his parents actually think about anything? Their moods were ever changing, alternating between being overprotective and not being able to get rid of him quickly enough. They were overly affectionate from time to time too, but to Sherlock it always felt like a facade. Mycroft would simply shrug when questioned on the subject and so the younger one had figured he was better off not knowing for sure.

“Are you alright?” John questions, placing a hand over Sherlock’s, startling him. “You went all contemplative suddenly.”

Sherlock stares at their hands and wonders what it’d be like to turn his around, allowing their fingers to intertwine. It’s a fanciful thought and he has no business entertaining such thoughts, really. Just because John is actually single, it doesn’t mean it suddenly has became more likely that something will happen between them.

“I’m fine,” he says, retrieving his hand and regretting it a second later. He already misses John’s warmth and the doctor does look a bit hurt, although maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

In any case, there’s nothing for him to do now; it’s not like he could reach for John’s hand.

He doesn’t think that’d work out well.

And yet-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I hadn’t thought much about plot wise where was this heading, but I hope that what I have figured out won’t feel… a bit abrupt. We’ll see, I suppose ;)   
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out! Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
